


A Well-Rounded Person

by redeyedwrath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas/New Years, Chubby Derek, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Pining Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeyedwrath/pseuds/redeyedwrath
Summary: "Which is, of course, when he returns to Beacon Hills and his world comes crashing down around him. As always, the life-altering experience revolves around Derek Hale, because when does it not. Except instead of werewolves and kanimas and crazy alphas— it’s about Derek himself."In which, Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills for the holidays and Derek is suddenly much more attractive than Stiles remembers





	A Well-Rounded Person

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charlesdk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdk/gifts).



> Wooooooooooooooo chubby!Derek!!!!!! I've been wanting to write something like this for ages so I started rambling about it on Discord and [Charlie](http://halerogers.tumblr.com) started sobbing, so Charlie, this is for you my dude :p
> 
> Hope y'all like it ^^

Stiles loves going to college. Really, anything is better than high school. Forget about social pressures and ADHD, his high school experiences were centered around life-or-death situations and freaking _werewolves_. So yeah, on top of balancing the high school workload, he had to find ways to keep himself and Scott and then later Erica and Boyd and Derek alive.

Needless to say, it wasn’t an easy task. But now he’s at college and more accepted and he feels more like he fits in his own skin and — you guessed it — he finally got rid of that pesky virginity. Stiles feels _great_. He feels like nothing could ever bring him down.

Which is, of course, when he returns to Beacon Hills and his world comes crashing down around him.

As always, the life-altering experience revolves around Derek Hale, because when does it _not_. Except instead of werewolves and kanimas and crazy alphas — it’s about Derek himself. Because listen, Derek has always been ridiculously fucking beautiful, alright? He has the eyes and the cheekbones and the scruff and the lips and the biceps and the abs, and Stiles has always found it a bit unfair to say the least.

The thing is, Derek doesn’t have that anymore. He still has the eyes and the scruff and the lips and the cheekbones obviously, because Derek’s genetics are ridiculous — and judging by Cora, the Hales are, like, blessed by God or something — but he has lost the biceps and the abs.

And it’s _ruining Stiles’ life_.

Really, Derek has always been ridiculously fucking beautiful, but seeing Derek all healthy and glowing and soft and wearing goddamn fucking christmas sweaters and yoga pants and having filled out a bit, just makes Stiles’ heart skip beats and takes his fucking breath away.

That’s not the only thing that’s changed in Derek’s vicinity though. Stiles walks into the loft for the first time in a few months and it actually looks… habitable? The weights that used to be piled in the corner are gone, and there are throw pillows on the couches, actual lights and it looks like a _home_.

“Wow,” he says, kind of embarrassed by how breathless he sounds. “I, uh, the place looks really good, Derek! Definitely better than… than before.”

Derek turns around to face him, lower half obscured by the kitchen counter, and a smile on his face that makes Stiles want to jump out the window. His cheeks are bunched and he has dimples and eye crinkles and Stiles is torn between wanting to hug him until they both suffocate and fucking him right then and there.

“Thanks,” Derek says, pouring a glass of coke for Stiles and a glass of apple juice for himself. His hands hide in his sleeves when he isn’t holding anything and Stiles internally screams ( _Sweater paws! Derek Hale has sweater paws! Someone hold him before he faints_.) “Cora really helped before she found her own place to sleep. I liked it enough to let it it stay the way it is.”

Derek sinks down onto the new, comfortable-looking couch after handing Stiles the glass, and Stiles follows him. The cushions are _heaven_ , and Stiles groans, letting the couch absorb him. “I’ll have to thank Cora then. This couch is _amazing_.”

“Um,” Derek says, taking a sip of his juice before setting it down on the table, the tips of his ears burning red. “That was my idea, actually.”

Oh. Well, Stiles knew Derek had changed, but somewhere in the back of his mind he’d still expected Derek to be a glutton for punishment for some reason. This — this is good though. Stiles gives him a reassuring smile, and the anxious look on Derek’s face disappears like snow in the sunlight.

“Good. Um, great job?” Stiles says, scratching at the back of his neck. Christ, he’d actually become a somewhat suave person at college but apparently all that newfound confidence evaporates in the face of a smiling Derek Hale. “So,” Stiles begins, gulping down half of his drink in an effort to gather his courage. “How have you been?”

Derek slouches a bit, and it emphasizes the added plush around his stomach and his thighs. Stiles quickly takes another sip of his drink to counteract how dry his mouth has suddenly become. Don’t get him wrong, Stiles loves that abs and the muscles and all that jazz but seeing Derek like this is just so… so…

“Fine,” Derek says, shrugging. “It’s lonely without the Pack here, but I’m starting to appreciate the peace and quiet.”

Yeah, Stiles knows that feeling. He loves the Pack, even in all their weird wolfish glory, but after Peter Hale and the kanima and the Alpha Pack, he definitely deserved a break. They all did. Derek most of all though; from what Stiles has been able to piece together, Derek hasn’t had a break in seven years.

Stiles stretches his arm around the back of the couch, until it’s just touching the roundness of Derek’s shoulders. “Oh yeah, me too. I definitely needed a break after all that craziness.”

Derek hums in agreement, slightly pushing into Stiles’ touch. It makes Stiles’ heart beat crazy fast and he blushes — there’s no way Derek doesn’t notice that. Instead of pulling away though, Stiles keeps his arm where it is, letting Derek’s warmth seep into his skin.

“It’s nice to reconnect with Cora too. We just… didn’t have much time to get to know each other.”

Derek slumps a bit at that, sad and disappointed and Stiles bites his lip. It’s one thing to know that he’s infatuated with the dude, but it’s a whole nother thing to want to feed him cookies and give him blankets and keep him warm and happy and safe forever.

“I can imagine that,” Stiles says, pausing as he thinks of something to change the subject to. He finds it in Derek’s soft sweater and the boxes filled with decorations that are stacked in the corner of Derek’s loft where the weights used to be. “I’m really looking forward to Christmas! Just seeing everyone again will be great, y’know?”

“I’ve missed Pack Christmases…” Derek says, gaze turning a bit wistful at his statement. Stiles’ heart twists. The Hale Pack had been big, had been a family filled with werewolves and humans. Stiles can only imagine what their Christmases must’ve been like — he’s only had his parents, and then just his dad. He sighs.

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” he tells Derek, dropping his arm so he can squeeze Derek’s shoulder, the skin giving under the pressure. Derek smiles at him then, so shy, and his cheeks are flushed, his bunny teeth showing.

Oh, Stiles thinks. _Oh_.

—

Stiles doesn’t have a lot of time to share with Derek the rest of the week. His dad takes up whatever time he has between working on assignments and studying for exams by forcing him to do chores. Stiles could just not do them, but his dad has been grumbling about having back pains and getting old, so Stiles cleans and cooks for the both of them.

It’s Christmas Day when he sees Derek again. Or, well, Christmas Evening, he supposes. Stiles is leaning against the arm of the couch, a pillow under him and a cup of hot cocoa in his hands, and he’s not sure he’s ever felt happier. Derek, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, and Scott are all squished together on the couch, Melissa and his dad taking the loveseat and Cora sitting in a pulled-up chair. Stiles catches his dad’s eyes and waggles his eyebrows, trying to subtly gesture towards Melissa. His dad just rolls his eyes, but pulls her closer anyway.

They’re watching some dumb, mindless Christmas movie — Stiles wasn’t allowed to put Die Hard on — and Stiles isn’t really paying attention. The glow of the lights from the tree makes everything seem warm, and they’re all here, together and alive.

Tilting his head back he looks at Derek, trying to see if he’s feeling okay. They talked about it a bit, what the Hale Christmases were like, and what Derek expected from today, and Stiles just wants to make sure that Derek is feeling nothing but fluffy, happy feelings.

Derek is already smiling — not with his mouth, but his eyes are twinkling with a sort of contentedness that Stiles has never seen on Derek’s face, and he lets out a breathless little gasp. Derek’s eyes fly to his, eyebrows already drawn up in concern, but they drop back down when he sees the expression on Stiles’ face, eyes widening a little. Stiles… Stiles should probably stop staring right now, before it gets weird, but — but he _can’t_.

Slowly, the corners of Derek’s mouth turn up, and he glances from Stiles to his lap and back again, the redness of his cheeks obvious even in the dim light of the Christmas tree. He’s wearing one of those ridiculously large sweaters again that sort of swallow him — and this one has thumbholes, _thumbholes_ for God’s sake, how is Stiles meant to survive this? — and he’s blushing and looking shyly at Stiles, and Stiles… Stiles…

Stiles looks away, instead staring at the dull brown liquid in his cup. It suddenly seems a lot less interesting, and Stiles _adores_ hot cocoa.

His dad coughs from the other end of the room and Stiles’ head shoots up to check on his dad, when he sees his dad waggle his eyebrows and subtly gesture at Derek. Stiles bites the inside of his cheek to hide his smile when he wonders if he and Derek are about as covert as his dad and Melissa.

—

But that’s just two times. Stiles can survive seeing Derek all healthy and glowing and happy twice. Twice is just fine. Then, one day, his dad invites Derek over for a card game and Derek — foolishly, oh so foolishly, he has clearly never played a card game with a Stilinski before — said yes.

So there Derek is, sitting at their kitchen table in Stiles’ childhood home, looking a bit bashful and a bit hopeful and a lot attractive, his thighs pressed together. Stiles swallows, hoping his cheeks aren’t too red even though they feel like they’re on fire, and goes about pouring his dad some coffee to distract himself.

“Do you want anything, Derek?” he asks, back purposefully turned to Derek so he won’t do something embarrassing like pour too much coffee into the cup so it overflows because he was too busy staring at the healthy glow on Derek’s cheeks. He grabs a glass for himself and then one for Derek, waiting on his answer.

“Do you have any juice?” Derek asks from behind him, polite in a way he never used to be, and Stiles finds himself smiling. He wonders if this is what Derek used to be like before the fire, before Kate ripped it all away from him. Peter had told him Derek had been cocky and arrogant, but seeing Derek like this, Stiles doesn’t believe it.

“Uh, let’s see…” Stiles says, peering into the fridge. Neither he nor his dad drink juice, so they probably don’t have a lot of choice. Stiles will have to stock up on it next time he goes to the store. “We have orange juice? Not apple juice though, sorry.”

“Orange juice is fine, thank you.”

Derek’s voice is soft and Stiles makes the fatal mistake of turning around and looking at Derek, who’s currently staring at Stiles with an intensity that makes Stiles blush. He’s smiling softly and there are dimples in his cheeks and Stiles, Stiles —

Stiles drops the glass of orange juice.

“Fuck!” he shouts, grabbing a towel and dropping to his knees to clean the mess up. Derek’s laughter rings through the kitchen and it makes Stiles flush with embarrassment and… and something unnameable, because Derek sounds _happy_.

His dad gives him a look like he knows what happened and Stiles resists the urge to roll his eyes. If this is any indication, this night is going to go horribly.

—

Near the end of the evening, after a shouting match or two, the tiredness has started to settle in, and they’re all a bit droopy-eyed and flushed. Derek yawns, leaning back in the chair as he rubs his hands over his eyes, his cheeks flushed with exhaustion and excitement from playing card games with Stilinskis, and his sweater rises up just the tiniest bit, just enough to show Stiles where his stomach is bulging a bit over the top of his boxers and Stiles… Stiles is pretty sure he’s on fucking fire right now.

He quickly looks down at his hands — partly to make sure Derek doesn’t catch him staring, partly to make sure that’s he’s still _actually alive_ — clenching them into fists and relaxing them again, anything to distract him from the fact that Derek is being all soft and warm and huggable next to him.

It’s not fucking fair.

“Tired?” Stiles asks, his voice surprisingly hoarse, and he coughs a bit to cover it up. His dad sinks back into his chair with a smug smile, and Stiles kicks him in the shin.

“A bit,” Derek says, his voice fuzzy with sleep. “It might be best if I go home.”

Stiles nods halfheartedly. He doesn’t really want Derek to go, but he doesn’t know how to ask him to stay without breaking into a monologue about how lovely he thinks Derek is. It’s silent then, for a little while. Not in an awkward way, just the three of them enjoying each other’s company.

His dad breaks it with a, “you can sleep here if you’re not up for the trip, son.”

Stiles doesn’t know whether he’d rather strangle his dad or hug him forever. He appreciates his dad’s attempts at matchmaking, but are they really necessary? _Really_? Derek smiles politely at Stiles’ dad, but he shakes his head. Stiles’ stomach drops a little.

“No, it’s fine,” Derek says, standing up and stretching, flexing his muscles to get rid of the drowsiness. Stiles averts his eyes before he starts staring again. “I’ll sleep at the loft. Cora’s probably waiting for me.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, suddenly feeling very awkward. He follows Derek to the hallway, waiting until Derek pulls on his coat to open the door for him. As a prevention he shoves his hands into his pockets, just to make sure that he doesn’t do something stupid like pull Derek close and kiss him stupid.

“Night, Stiles,” Derek says, when he’s standing outside, giving him a little wave. Stiles doesn’t want him to leave.

“Sleep well,” Stiles says, and he waits until he can’t see Derek anymore to close the door. It’s so cold, and his pajamas don’t really help with that.

He’s so fucking fucked.

—

It’s New Year’s and Stiles is going to participate in what used to be a Hale Family Tradition — going for a dive in the cold, freezing waters of the lake in the middle of the Preserve, because werewolves are apparently masochists and seem to forget that they run about three thousand degrees hotter than Stiles.

So Stiles lets himself get roped into going swimming because Scott uses the puppy eyes, and his dad raises his eyebrows, and Derek looks at him and softly says, “please? It’s really important for me?” and _really_ , how is Stiles meant to resist that? It’s just unfair. Just Scott’s puppy eyes would’ve done the trick, thank you very much, but both his dad and Derek had to get involved as well.

And now he’s standing on the bank of the lake, in just his fucking swimwear while it’s like minus one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. He’s trying his best not to physically curl into a ball, his arms around his waist, his teeth already chattering, and he’s pretty sure his toes are turning an alarming shade of purple and he hasn’t even jumped into the water yet.

Stiles is already physically dying, just looking at Scott and Isaac and Erica splashing around the freezing lake, when there’s a rustling behind him. He turns around, pretending he’s not stalling, when he realizes who is actually standing there behind him. It’s Derek.

Derek in just a sweater and his swimming trunks, his thighs nice and soft and his face round, and then he turns his back to Stiles and pulls off his sweater and just… just _wow_. Derek has dimples on his back and his waist is hanging over his trunks a bit and he looks so soft and cuddly and Stiles is pretty sure he just died and went to heaven, because _just_ when you think that Derek fucking Hale can’t get any more attractive he goes and does this shit and it’s so unfair.

He snaps out of his Derek-is-so-cute-I’m-going-to-die haze when Derek crosses his arms over his stomach, forearms bulging a bit. Stiles swallows and looks away, but it’s already too late.

Fuck, he’s pretty sure he made Derek uncomfortable by staring at him. Maybe he’s insecure about his weight — though Stiles can’t really imagine that, he’s never seen any indicators that Derek feels ashamed for being a bit more chubby — and Stiles just made it worse. Shit, shit, _shit_ , he’s such an oblivious asshole sometimes.

“I—” Derek starts, stops, loosely holding his wrist in his hand, arms covering up most of his chest so that only the side are visible. Stiles makes himself look Derek directly in the eye. “I, uh, I know it’s not what you’re used to.”

Oh. _Oh_. That’s just a travesty. Because here Derek motherfucking Hale is, and Stiles is so ridiculously, unequivocally _in love with him_ (There, he said it, happy now?) and he’s feeling… bashful and insecure? So Stiles does the only thing he can reasonably do without just bursting into a little puddle of blood.

He takes a tentative step forward, and then another one, and another one, until he’s standing so close to Derek that he can feel Derek’s body heat, their toes almost touching, and, “Dude,” he breathes. “ _Dude_. I really don’t know where you got the idea that you don’t look great because… because _dude_.”

And there it is again, that shy fucking smile that makes Stiles’ heart run victory laps around the entire fucking Preserve, the one that made Stiles fall in love with him in the first place.

“Oh,” Derek says, uncrossing his arms and letting them hang at his sides, and Stiles can _finally_ see him in all his glory, soft and plush and the little lines of stretch marks running over his skin and Jesus fucking Christ, is it still Christmas? What did Stiles do to deserve this? “Okay.”

And then. _Then_. Then Derek takes Stiles’ hand in his, his fingers twining slowly with Stiles’ until their palms are pressed together. Stiles is freezing and Derek is giving off enough heat to thaw an entire frozen lake and Stiles wants to burrow himself in Derek, find every nook and cranny until they fit together perfectly and he can’t tell where he ends and Derek begins.

Derek leans closer, and closer, and _closer_ , until they’re sharing breaths and Stiles about to spontaneously combust because they’re so fucking close to kissing when Derek pushes him back and he falls into the lake.

It’s cold, so fucking cold, and Stiles comes up gasping for air, the sound of Derek’s laughter ringing through the clearing.

“Oh my god!” Stiles splutters, his teeth clattering. He’s pretty sure his toes are already blue. He _despises Derek_. “You _bastard_. You absolute piece of _shit_.”

“Sorry,” Derek says, breathless with laughter, and tears streaming down his cheeks. Stiles would probably be more angry if Derek wasn’t so goddamn adorable when he laughed. “I couldn’t resist.”

Stiles pouts, wrapping his arms around his own waist, rubbing at his skin to try to create some friction. He’s pretty sure that if he stays in this water for any longer he’ll freeze to death. “You better come warm me up now with your supernatural warmth and some kisses to convince me to actually begin something with you.”

Derek rolls his eyes, but he jumps in anyway. Stiles gets soaked again in the resulting splash and he’s about to start yelling when Derek dives up in front of him, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I guess I’ll better start then.”

“You fucking better,” Stiles mutters, jumping into the safe circle of Derek’s arms. Drops of water fall on his shoulders from Derek’s hair and he’s turning into a fucking icicle and he may never use his dick again, but Derek is hugging him and pressing a kiss into his hair and he’s fine.

He’s _fine._

**Author's Note:**

> Hhhhh I really hope y'all liked it!!!! I know chubby!Derek probably isn't that popular but yknow. I hope you enjoyed it regardless. Thank you to [ladydrace](http://ladydrace.tumblr.com) for beta'ing this for me and making sure my skinny ass didn't say something insensitive ^^
> 
> Please let me know what you thought!!!!!
> 
> [Also yo come join me on Tumblr, where I cry about pretty boys and Sterek and Merthur ^^](http://nerdderek.tumblr.com)


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